Thank you.
A fine wine!
But yesterday's was drier.
The one the day before was even better.
Time flies!
The carriage is coming!
At last.
Before giving you the keys to this house,
it is my duty, sir, to verify who has sent you.
Sir, here is the royal decree assigning me this mandate.
"By God's grace and will, Louis, king of France and Navarre
hereby commands Etienne Pascal
to confer himself to Normandy
in the quality of Royal Intendant of tallage and taxation
and furthermore, delegates to him
all power and authority he deems necessary
to restore order
in our parishes in Normandy
left in disarray and abandon
by the negligence of our parliament in Rouen.
Signed at the Louvre on September 1 5, in the year of our Lord 1 639,
by the Grace of God and his Holy Virgin Mother,
King Louis."
The house is yours, and I have the honor, Royal Intendant,
to give you the keys.
Your chambers are upstairs, sir.
All seemed calm on the road to Rouen.
Because we've imprisoned all the rebels.
Now no one will refuse to pay taxes.
This is your office, Royal Intendant.
I see.
We've much work before sending a report to Chancellor Séguier.
Place the trunk over there.
That's fine. Thank you.
Where are the bedrooms?
Follow me, please.
Go open the window.
This room has no shutters.
The finest room in the house.
I'll show you the others.
"Moses was tending his flock on the mountain of God
and the Lord appeared to him as a flame of fire from the midst of a bush.
He saw the bush was burning with fire, but the bush was not consumed.
Then Moses said,
'I will see this great sight,
why the bush is not burnt."'
You sent for me, Father?
I did. My secretary...
was corrupted by a merchant of Rouen.
I fired him.
The tax register of Rouville parish must be brought up to date
and I need your help.
"Morneboeuf, miller on the land of the viscount of Rouen:
2,265 bushels of flour
and a house near the village on the road to Rouen.
Four sols per bushel of flour,
two ecus for the house,
and the obligation to buy 36 pounds of salt a year
at the price fixed by the Lisieux tax office.
Did not take part in the revolt."
Write:
Tallage will increase by one-fifteenth on the flour,
and by two-twelfths on the house.
The salt tax will remain the same.
Calculate the total.
But he didn't take part in the revolt!
Let the matter lie. Calculate.
For the coming year, Morneboeuf's tallage is 43 ecus and two sols.
Quickly calculated.
Are you sure you're not mistaken?
Yes, and I could be quicker.
Be careful.
What's this, Father?
- What? - This book.
Oh, that. Father Mersenne sent it.
He thought it'd interest me.
Read the title.
Rough Draft of Attaining the Outcome of Intersecting a Cone with a Plane.
It's by Mr. Desargues,
a Lyonnais geometrician,
a work so obscure that scholars call it the "Lesson on Darkness."
May I read it, Father?
You may, but you won't understand it.
Let's get back to work.
"Falaise, sharecropper on the land of the viscount of Rouen.
Four cows and a calf under his care, 15 acres of pasture.
Obligation to buy salt each year
at the price fixed by the Lisieux tax office."
Why is the water carrier here? Is the well dry?
No, but this morning I saw a toad
and feared some evil spell.
This is good water from the Bruel spring.
- Did you follow the ritual? - With two sticks, I made a cross.
Marie, have you seen Mr. Blaise?
He retired to his room and asked not to be disturbed.
- What about the mare? - In the stable and restless.
I think she'll give birth tonight.
Inform me, no matter the hour.
All the mare needs is peace and quiet.
The stable boys will take care of the rest.
Please leave.
I invite all of you to drink to this happy event with my wine.
It's from the Seine Valley.
Good night.
Still working?
She bore us a little mule.
You should go see it instead of tiring yourself.
Your calculations will never rival the beauty of God's creatures.
Aren't these also part of creation?
It's already daylight.
What are you doing?
I've gotten to the bottom of Mr. Desargues's work.
You know I disapprove.
You should take better care of yourself. Do you think it's good for your health
to work all night?
I thought you'd be pleased.
You know that, like you, I enjoy geometric calculations,
but you have too much zeal,
and curiosity,
and you're too good at it.
Don't let your successes infect you with delusions of grandeur.
Father, I know a man is truly great when he knows he is nothing.
Hold fast to that idea and you will prosper.
However, I'll take your work
to familiarize myself with it
so that we may discuss it together.
But from now on,
try to control your thirst for knowledge
for it may lead you into temptation.
Do you know the Minim convent in Paris?
Deliver this letter and this treatise to Father Mersenne.
Take this for your journey.
Take my best horse
and gain time by cutting across the fields.
Another thing: Tell no one of your trip,
especially Blaise.
Godspeed.
I've just received, from Etienne Pascal,
the Royal Intendant of the Rouen province,
a treatise by his son Blaise, age 1 7.
It is such a brilliant work
that I intend to publish it.
It's the solution
to the Rough Draft of Attaining the Outcome of Intersecting a Cone with a Plane,
the solution to the great Desargues's "Lesson on Darkness."
You wish to see me?
Yes, Royal Intendant.
It's about my injunction to pay tallage.
Which parish do you belong to?
Rouville, Royal Intendant.
Mouliné, master tanner.
You owe in excess of 53 ecus to the treasury,
and your payment is more than two months late.
Do not force me to confiscate your property.
Sadly, your collectors will find almost nothing.
I'm ruined.
Ruined?
How can this be?
The townspeople say my maid is a witch.
Because of this, no one will buy my tanned hides.
I'm ruined.
Is it a well-founded accusation?
I'm afraid so.
It's due to the evil spell cast on my son.
Have you informed the authorities?
Naturally.
The woman has been arrested,
but there are so many witch trials in our city
that she will not be tried for several months.
I'm ruined, Royal Intendant, and I can't pay you...
- unless... - I'm listening.
Unless she's speedily brought to trial
and I'm quickly released from this curse.
It's the only way to make my clients return.
I understand, sir.
I'll see what I can do.
Thank you.
Father is going to Rouen.
- Another trial? - For witchcraft.
They are trying Mr. Mouliné's maid.
After bewitching his son, they say she bewitched his shop.
Mr. Mouliné can't sell a single hide.
The devil can't enter a man's body unless he's been invoked.
On the contrary, he can, if the spell has sufficient power.
It's quite possible that Mr. Mouliné's maid invoked the devil
to ruin her master.
She had good reason to hate him, he always treated her harshly.
Doubtlessly, but it is an abominable crime
to call upon the powers of hell for revenge.
One needs proof that a Christian woman would commit such idolatry.
Her master's business is ruined, isn't it?
Due to people's credulity, perhaps.
I believe in hell's power,
but there are also illnesses that madden the mind and corrupt the senses.
I believe Satan roams the world
trying to possess the souls of every weak, defenseless person he meets.
The devil uses the melancholic humor to torment men.
But the melancholic humor alone, without Satan's help,
is capable of corrupting the soul.
In the merciless struggle against evil, our vigilance must never wane.
Send in the accused.
Let us invoke our Lord.
May he be our witness
and grant his merciful grace.
Veni, creátor Spiritus,
mentes tuorum visita,
imple supérna grátia,
quæ tu creásti péctora.
Amen
Amen.
All auditors and witnesses being present, court is now in session.
Accused, please rise.
Do you acknowledge that you are Michelle Martin,
heretofore allegedly employed as a maid by Mr. Mouliné,
in his house, located in the parish of Rouville?
Yes.
Criminal Lieutenant, state your case.
After much effort, we attained a confession from Michelle Martin,
accused by us of the crime of divine high treason,
of witchcraft and abominable contracts with hell.
From the devil, the accused obtained
power of sickness and death over others,
and in order to harm her master, Mr. Mouliné,
she cast an evil spell on his youngest son.
After being bewitched,
this child threw extremely violent fits
each time he saw his parents near each other.
Fearing a curse and suspecting the accused,
Mr. Mouliné, using all his wiles,
convinced her that he'd keep it a secret if she told him the truth.
The accused promised to tell all,
on condition that she wouldn't be reported and her life be spared.
At this point, the accused asked Rose Planquier to give testimony
attesting that she'd seen a fly exiting her mouth.
Thus, she admitted
that she was possessed by the devil,
but denied signing a pact with him.
It was Astarotte.
Wait.
Accused, tell us what happened.
I told my master
the curse had to be transferred.
Someone had to die for the child.
Man or beast?
Beast.
It was transferred to a cat and the child was saved.
Enough. This establishes proof of a pact with the devil.
Let us now hear Dr. Colar's testimony.
After shaving the entire body of the accused,
we searched her flesh,
with no tool but our eyes,
for the devil's mark.
But our scrupulous examination
yielded no sign of diabolical interference.
You then sought the devil's mark
by pricking all parts of the body with a needle?
Yes, we did.
- Not neglecting old scars? - No, sir.
What did you find?
On the left hip of the accused
was a spot lacking sensitivity,
an infallible sign of a pact with the devil.
In this precise spot,
without spilling a drop of blood,
the needle penetrated so deeply
that we were unable to extract it.
The diabolical pact is thus proven.
Michelle Martin, would you now repeat
what was recorded in your deposition?
The devil transported me to a faraway mountaintop,
before an altar draped with a black cloth.
Were you alone?
Alone with him.
What did he order you to do?
To make the sign of the cross with my left hand.
What else?
He made me renounce the baptism I'd received,
as well as God,
the Virgin Mary,
the saints of heaven,
the church,
and my family.
Fire!
Only fire can purify me.
Take me to the stake! I want to be condemned!
Quiet.
We alone can decide your punishment.
The devil didn't want me to confess.
I resisted ordinary torture.
I suffered, he wouldn't allow me to speak.
Then, under extraordinary torture,
he became afraid,
and when they broke my legs,
he left me and I confessed.
I confess to everything.
I feared God.
I used to scrupulously obey his teachings,
but the devil possessed me.
I was innocent,
but I rejoiced at the darkest crimes
and the vilest blasphemies.
I took part in witches' Sabbaths.
The devil transported me
with dizzying speed to the heart of a haunted forest.
Where did the devil take you from?
The house.
You set out on this diabolic journey from the house,
passing through the walls? - Yes.
She lies! Only God's power is capable of such things.
The moonlight was bright.
And you followed him?
Yes, I followed him.
So, you followed him willingly. How? Through the door?
We started that awful journey from the courtyard.
But how did the devil get in?
- I don't know. - You do know!
He slipped under the door.
Or through the window, perhaps?
Under the door.
Was the window closed?
It was open.
It was summer and it was hot, I already told you.
Then why should the devil slip under the door?
I don't know.
You do! You were expecting him!
I was unhappy, miserable.
You retract your confession?
No.
I confess to everything.
Yes, he came in through the window.
Which you'd left open?
Yes, I'd left it open.
Tell the whole truth.
It will benefit your soul.
No!
My poor daughter!
Do not attempt to pervert the course of justice with your tears!
Never shall this court be guilty of complicity with Satan.
Excellent. I will now allow the judges,
before I question the witnesses here present,
to consult the meticulously transcribed confession of the accused.
The auditors may proceed.
Unbelievable! For the judges, salvation can only found at the stake!
It's probable. The devil cannot possess a soul that's left the body.
May the Lord deliver us
and never allow us to invoke his enemy's name.
We'd never invoke him.
No one knows what they might do tomorrow.
On finding ourselves in peril, as if abandoned by God,
anything is possible.
You were barely a year old
when you were cursed by a horrible witch
who believed it was my fault she'd been unfairly sentenced at a trial.
To avoid seeing you die of convulsions, I gave her money.
Perhaps she invoked the devil, but you were saved.
I confess these things confuse me.
Yes, I know.
Please calculate it, Blaise.
The total is 1 5 ecus and three sols.
Good. We'll continue tomorrow.
Let's go.
Jacqueline.
Put that down, and come with us to see the cabinet maker.
I'm sure you'll enjoy it.
Your brother wishes to show us a machine he invented.
Father, is it really necessary?
This machine is capable of doing all kinds of calculations
without paper or pen.
You know very well that such things don't interest me.
Why not?
Father, didn't you urge me to distrust anything
that might distract my thoughts from religion?
You're excused, my daughter,
but there is no impiety in Blaise's machine.
God doesn't condemn those who seek to understand Nature's marvels
in order to share them with mankind.
The only danger is to fall prey to the demon of vanity
who urges us to believe that the marvels are our own
and those who discover them, their creators.
Good-bye, my daughter.
- Good day. - Good day, gentlemen.
I invented it for you, Father.
It will spare you much work in accounting.
These gears seem slightly loose.
Take it apart again and readjust them.
First I must finish the bed and chairs your daughter ordered.
What should we do? - My sister doesn't matter.
She can wait a few months more.
She has no immediate need for her furniture,
but this machine is eager to be introduced,
to present this marvelous new method of calculation
and attain its glory.
Spare no effort to make it beautiful on the outside, too.
Yes, sir.
It must satisfy the eyes
as well as the mind.
Don't disappoint us. - I won't, sir.
Good. Let's go.
We'll be back to see this marvel.
But beware, my son,
of excessive pride.
Good-bye, gentlemen.
Chancellor Séguier, time to rise.
"O righteous Father,
the world hath not known thee:
but I have known thee,
and these have known that thou hast sent me.
And I have declared unto them thy name, and will declare it:
that the love wherewith thou hast loved me
may be in them, and I in them."
Please see whether Father Mersenne
and the other academics have arrived.
Yes, Chancellor, Father Mersenne and the others are here.
Show them in.
We have the honor, Chancellor Séguier,
of presenting you with a machine
that, according to the inventor,
owes its existence to the need to fulfill your orders.
What kind of machine? And who is its inventor?
This machine makes it possible to perform any kind of calculation:
addition, subtraction, multiplication,
division of whole numbers or with decimals,
all without pens or tokens,
or any danger of error.
It was designed by Mr. Pascal, the son.
The same who wrote the treatise on conic sections,
whose father serves the Crown under my orders in Normandy?
The very same.
Five times eight equals 40.
Equals 40.
It seems a remarkable invention,
especially when presented by such knowledgeable men.
I will not fail to inform His Majesty,
who, as you know, is the most capable craftsman in the realm.
He is so skilled that Mr. Pomerol,
the greatest gunsmith of France, on retiring,
considered no one but the King
worthy of inheriting the secrets of his craft.
I've heard from Cardinal Richelieu
that this Pascal has a sister with a gift for poetry and acting.
The girl must've been no more than 1 2 or 1 3
when, under the patronage of the Duchess of Guillaume,
she enchanted Cardinal Richelieu
with one of those theatrical performances
to which he has always been so partial.
That was how she obtained a pardon for her father
who had lost our favor.
The Pascal family will surely make quite a name for itself.
I'm glad to see you, Jacques.
We weren't expecting you so late in the season.
We had to leave Clermont in great haste
before plague broke out and roads were blocked.
- The plague? - On the road to Clermont
we saw many pyres where corpses were being burnt.
You've nothing to fear, we kept our distance.
Gilberte!
Take her to her room immediately.
Where's Father?
He was asked to intervene in a duel between two gentlemen.
As he hurried out, he slipped.
He insisted on being treated by the Duchamp brothers,
charitable noble veterans, experts at setting broken bones.
They're upstairs.
The borage, please.
Water!
He's always working.
He hardly eats, so he's too weak to stand.
Miss Jacqueline told us not to leave Mr. Pascal alone.
Does he often have such fits?
Yes, it's a kind of paralysis from the waist down.
His feet are as cold as ice.
It's because he's too zealous in his studies.
It's gone to his brain.
Though we are experts at fixing broken bodies,
a science learned on the battlefield,
we know nothing about such humors.
With us, we carry a devotional book,
the letters of Saint-Cyran, a French disciple of Jansen.
We strongly recommend
keeping it within the patient's reach.
Beyond that,
we can only pray for his recovery.
Thank you.
Seeing you die to return to God
filled me with joy.
You were certain of my salvation?
Yes, certain.
If your illness had been the devil's work,
the proximity of Saint-Cyran's letters
would have increased your fever and agitation.
On the contrary, they calmed you.
If you rejoice to see a just man die,
why do you care for his body when he is ill?
Because we must care for it,
as we would the cherished possession of another.
On this earth we are mere actors,
and we play the role the master has chosen for us.
If it be brief, so shall we play it.
If long, we'll play it long.
Reading the letters of Saint-Cyran you left me, I understood, like him,
that we are in the hands of God
who blinds some, enlightens others and moves where he will.
The doctrinaire will never meet him,
for they believe they alone can interpret the scriptures,
as if truth were an object to be possessed
instead of a living thing recognized and cultivated by the mind and heart.
In this world, I'm wary of all the assurances of doctrine.
For instance, it's reasonable to firmly believe that nature abhors a vacuum.
Undoubtedly.
And yet, I firmly believe
that the vacuum exists, even if our minds reject this fact.
I can show you proof that the heart cannot refute.
People imagine Plato and Aristotle
only in the heavy garb of pedants.
They were good men,
and, like all of us,
they laughed with their friends.
When they amused themselves creating their laws and policies,
it was play for them.
In their lives, this was the least philosophical and serious part.
What was most philosophical was living: simply, peacefully.
I'm astounded by such thoughts
after seeing the jumble of things you distract yourself with.
You've barely recovered from a serious illness,
and yet, you're incapable of resting.
You've barely begun to walk and you worry about science!
Thank you. It's nothing.
You see,
my activity distracts me from my ailments,
it keeps me from concentrating on my pain,
or in other words, on myself.
I'm cold.
Could you stoke the fire, please?
Furthermore, I'm convinced the idea of the vacuum
has much greater interest
than to resolve a petty scientific dispute.
Why don't I show you?
Would you fetch that syringe?
- This one? - Yes.
Every opening in these bellows
has been carefully blocked.
When I try to open them,
I feel a strong resistance,
as if the sides of the bellows
were glued to each other.
Try it.
- You're right. - Good.
Now observe this syringe.
I push the plunger all the way in
and immerse it in water.
With one finger, I block the submerged opening.
Now I pull back the plunger,
and my finger feels a strong pull, it's painful.
If I continue to pull the plunger,
my finger no longer feels a pull,
even though the empty space inside the syringe has increased.
If I remove my finger,
the water, against its nature, which is to flow downward,
instead rushes upward into the syringe, quite forcefully.
From this I conclude that the vacuum does exist.
The weight of the air makes the water go up into the syringe
where a vacuum has been created.
Very pretty.
But I have an objection.
The vacuum of which you speak is neither substance nor spirit.
God cannot have created it.
How, therefore, can it exist?
And you?
How can you decide what is of God and what is not?
Isn't God outside our reach,
concealed by the mediocrity of our understanding?
Do you really believe that the ability to recognize
and to measure the specific weight of air at various altitudes,
which I will endeavor to do,
makes us less wretched in the eyes of God?
No.
Science has two extremes that touch each other:
The first is pure natural ignorance.
The other
is where great souls arrive
after traversing all that can be learned by man,
to find that they know nothing.
Those in the middle, who've overcome natural ignorance
but not yet attained the other,
"the ignorance of the wise"
have a smattering of science and act knowing.
They are the ones who spread confusion and misjudge everything.
I know you aren't like that.
If you'd stay longer,
I could show you other experiments I'm planning.
To measure atmospheric pressure,
that is, the weight of the air around us,
we'll use this mercury-filled tube.
Observe:
one end of the tube is hermetically sealed,
and the other, the upper one, is open.
I shall suck out the air from the upper opening
and inverting the tube, immerse it in this tank,
removing my finger from the submerged opening.
Now we can see the mercury move,
leaving an empty space in the upper portion of the tube.
The height of the mercury
indicates the exact pressure of the air,
that is, its weight.
Now, gentlemen,
I pass the floor to my son.
I can't get up, Father.
Jacques, bring the brandy.
What are you doing?
Soaking my boots in brandy does more than soften them,
it also confers a surprising ability to conserve heat.
My legs are stiff because my blood circulation is poor.
Heat activates my circulation
and makes my legs more limber.
All this would infuriate the good Dr. Patin.
He maintains that Harvey's theory on blood circulation
is useless to medicine and harmful to man.
I, on the other hand,
though the idea is hateful to many respected doctors,
can't help but be convinced,
for my poor legs force me
to verify its validity often.
The experiment of the great Torricelli
clearly proves
that the effects falsely attributed to abhorrence of a vacuum
should instead be attributed to air pressure.
Since certain people refuse to accept with reason
what their senses admit,
I've thought up an experiment
to enlighten us once and for all.
Thank you. After that, I feel much better.
I intend to repeat the basic experiment of the vacuum
which you've just seen
several times on the same day:
sometimes on the ground, sometimes on a rooftop.
You'll see that this experiment is decisive,
because if the mercury rises
higher when on the roof than on the ground,
it means that the weight of the air
is the sole cause for the suspension of the mercury,
since it is certain that there is more air
here on the ground
than on the roof.
And no one,
no one could pretend that nature abhors a vacuum more
down here on the ground than up on the roof.
We'll now conduct the experiment in your presence.
Pierre, up you go.
Half a line.
Half a line!
It's sufficient to confirm my idea.
In any case, I'm convinced we'd obtain a much greater difference
if instead of the height of a house,
we could use the height of a mountain.
With your consent, Father,
I'll write to Mr. Périer and ask him to repeat the experiment
at the base and summit of the Puy-de-Dôme.
There's no doubt the results will be striking!
Before that, we should meet with Father Noël of the Jesuits
to ask his opinion of these matters.
He's a learned man and luckily enough, he's now visiting Rouen.
I say the space in the tube which appears empty is a body
for it acts as a body:
it transmits light with reflection
and slows the movement of other bodies,
as demonstrated by the descent of the quicksilver.
We'll now examine the nature of this body.
Let us presuppose that,
just as the blood in our veins is a mixture of black bile,
yellow bile, phlegm and blood,
where blood, prevailing in quantity, gives the mixture its name,
similarly, the air we breathe is a mixture of water, earth and air,
where air, prevailing in quantity, gives the mixture its name.
Now, in the same way this mixture in our veins
is normal in the human body,
the mixture which composes air
is normal in the world.
Therefore, just as the elements which compose blood
can separate inside the veins,
the elements of the air
can separate in the world.
I will further add that the air inside the tube,
being separated from water and earth
is finer and more rarified than when combined with the others
and can penetrate the pores of certain types of matter.
Let us presuppose a known truth:
glass has a large quantity of pores.
It is true that these pores are so small
that air as a mixture cannot pass through them.
But air, separated from water and earth,
could penetrate glass.
Like a wire, if too thick to pass through a small hole,
when made thinner, is able to do so.
As for the remaining objection, to wit:
light cannot sustain itself in a vacuum,
this is conclusive proof against the existence of the vacuum,
since light is a luminary movement of rays composed of lucid bodies
which fill transparent bodies
yet this illumination may be found
in the part of the tube free of quicksilver.
Therefore, this gap must be a body, since it is transparent.
So you see, gentlemen, the vacuum does not exist.
Revered Father,
a universal rule exists,
applicable to all subjects which require to be proven.
This is the rule:
one must never pronounce judgment
to negate or affirm a proposition
without fulfilling one of the following two conditions:
Either the proposition seems so absolutely evident
that the mind has no way to doubt its veracity --
we call this a postulate or axiom --
I'll give you an example.
If we add the same number to two equal numbers,
both sums will be equal.
Or the second condition,
that the proposition is deduced by infallible logic
based on other axioms or postulates.
Anything that satisfies one of these two conditions is true.
Anything that doesn't satisfy either condition remains doubtful.
Such things are called, according to their merit,
"visions," "whims," sometimes "fantasies,"
sometimes "ideas,"
or at the very least, "thoughts."
You maintain, Revered Father,
that the empty space in the tube is a body.
You conclude this because it acts as a body:
It transmits light
and slows the movement of other bodies.
Revered Father, if tested by the method I just spoke of,
we shall find that before we can judge,
it is necessary to agree on a definition of vacuum,
of movement, and of light.
Let us consider one of these three terms:
Light. We know nothing about it.
Its nature may forever remain unknown to us.
Therefore, I beg you not to draw conclusions
about the nature of a thing unknown to us.
Let us now presuppose, you continue,
that, as blood is a mixture of different liquids,
air must also be a mixture of different substances.
You presuppose that rarified air can penetrate the pores of glass.
But, Revered Father,
at a time when eminent minds discuss such topics with great care,
I can't believe that you'd draw a conclusion based on a substance
whose existence is a mere supposition!
In any case, if one presupposes the opposite,
the conclusion, similarly, could only be to the contrary.
Now, if you were asked to show us this substance,
you'd say it's invisible.
If you were asked to let us hear it, you'd say it's inaudible,
and so forth, for the other senses.
You might say, "It was merely a hypothesis."
But to form a clear hypothesis,
one must be certain of the causes and the effects.
For example,
if I found a hot stone,
how would you consider the following logic?
"If we presuppose that this stone was placed in a large fire
and was recently extracted,
it should still be hot.
As the stone is, in fact, hot,
I conclude that it had been in a large fire."
You'd tell me my reasoning is faulty,
since fire is not the only cause of heat.
Heat can come from the sun or from friction.
Finally, Father,
you define light in these terms:
"Light is a luminary movement composed of lucid bodies,"
"lucid" here meaning "luminous."
I confess I have difficulty
accepting a definition that says:
"Light is a luminary movement of luminous bodies."
Well-spoken, my son.
These gentlemen will reply another day.
You can be sure of it.
What are you doing?
Why didn't you send your valet instead?
You tire yourself needlessly.
I'll explain.
It is my weakness to want to keep myself in a state of poverty
and I believe that actions speak louder than words.
You seem to have forgotten about poverty of spirit.
Nothing in your actions or words
leads us to believe you cultivate that state.
Another of your contradictions, perhaps?
Yes. You're right to judge me severely
and you never miss a chance to do so.
However, listen:
The vacuum, the void, is the face of the infinite.
If I seek the void in nature,
it's to discover its mirror in the heart of man.
When I feel the void consume my vanity,
when my thoughts are freed from vain ideas and desires,
God, whom I know only through reason, and therefore do not know --
Can you know or love someone through reason alone?
Perhaps God will deign to consider the place I've made for him inside me.
A place, not of the finite and miserable dimensions of my reason,
but of the infinite dimensions of the void.
Let God show himself and I shall know him.
There are other paths to God.
Wait for him in silence and he will come.
Not the God of philosophers, but the living Christ!
Read the Gospels.
They teach all you need know of the world.
Yes, but nature bears the mark of God,
and I believe charity can only be true
if it is enlightened by understanding and knowledge,
and man's only true knowledge
is to acknowledge that there is an infinity of things
beyond his grasp.
Our knowledge is nothing if we do not realize this.
- What are you doing here? - Removing all the water
so Mr. Blaise's soul won't drown.
- Is it that bad? - He hardly moved all night.
Take that away and try to be less superstitious.
I feel very weak.
- Does your head hurt? - No, my mind is clear.
Here, take your emetic.
This relapse was caused by yesterday's argument.
You shouldn't get so worked up.
Perhaps I'd have remained calm if you'd have been there.
Blaise, I've something important to tell you.
This morning I saw the parish priest of Rouville,
who's just returned from the monastery of Port Royal in Paris.
Port Royal?
I want you to be the first to know.
I've decided to renounce the world
and to retire to the convent of Port Royal.
The letters of Saint-Cyran,
and my conversations with the priest of Rouville,
whom I trust implicitly,
lead me to believe that life at Port Royal
matches my ideal of Christian life, an ideal I hold
since God first touched my heart.
I know.
I know that you too have great esteem
and admiration for these people.
But tell me, what do you think of my decision?
All I can say is
I approve of your choice.
No. I've thought it through and I cannot consent.
Your duty is to be here, in this house, with your father,
as long as he lives.
You know that since my accident I feel quite weak.
I assure you that you won't have long to wait.
And you, my son, you could've waited for my death
to plant the seed of this project in your sister's too fertile imagination.
You should've dampened her enthusiasm.
- But Father -- - I will hear no more.
It is necessary for you to strengthen your new resolution
before you retire to Port Royal,
so that there remains not the slightest doubt
concerning your vocation.
From now on, you shall no longer speak to the priest of Rouville
nor to either of the Duchamp brothers
if you happen to encounter them in private.
In this manner, we'll see if you persist in your choice
and if it truly comes from God.
Blaise, you'll go to Paris to look after my affairs.
I wish everything to be in order,
so that there will be no confusion after my death.
In Paris, you'll have the good fortune to meet Father Mersenne
and some of our greatest thinkers.
You'll have the opportunity
to discuss your ideas on science and religion with them.
And now, please leave me.
"But as touching the resurrection of the dead,
have ye not read that which was spoken by God, saying,
'I am the God of your father,
the God of Abraham,
the God of Isaac,
and the God of Jacob."'
Sir?
- Are you Mr. Pascal? - I am. Why?
I've been looking for you for days,
at last I've found you!
Are you the one doing odd experiments in the bell towers of Notre Dame
with bottles full of water and mercury?
Yes. Why?
I've been looking for you all over Paris, sir,
to tell you that you are reckless!
Yes, sir! Reckless! And that's not all --
Do you really believe you're benefiting science
by ignoring the ancients, refusing them their due respect?
You're mistaken. I don't ignore them. I honor them.
Do you deny that you attributed to God
the creation of something that absolutely cannot exist,
such as the vacuum?
I see you're not even brave enough to defend your ideas!
The ones you call the ancients were men to whom everything was new.
Humanity was in its infancy.
We've added to their knowledge
the discoveries made over the intervening centuries
so the antiquity you speak of is to be found living within ourselves!
Oh! You're also presumptuous!
You dare use the authority of the ancients
to affirm with impunity
the opposite of what's been taught for centuries
by men of science around the world.
Unbelievable!
Use your reason, if you have any.
Do we blame the ancients for their concept of the Milky Way?
They attributed its luminosity to a greater density in that part of the sky.
But aren't we to blame
if we continue to uphold their belief
now that we've discovered myriad little stars with the telescope?
On that point, you're right.
But for the rest,
I find you're a bit too young
to presume to invent a new science.
Rest assured, I'll do no such thing. I lack the ability.
In my opinion, however,
we should encourage the timid who dare not invent anything in physics
and confound the reckless who invent new theologies.
However, it is a tragedy of our time
that new theological ideas, unknown in antiquity,
are obstinately supported and applauded,
whereas new ideas in physics,
though few in number,
are condemned as falsehoods
if they ruffle, even slightly, accepted beliefs.
How dare you speak of these things,
you, who are so young?
Sir, if our reason leads us to respect the ancients,
then our reason must also place a limit!
You're nothing but a heathen!
Sense should be beaten into you with a stick!
Excuse me, I'm expected at the convent of the Minims.
What arrogance!
This side is full, please sit over there.
Thank you.
- Good morning. - Good morning.
- Who's speaking? - The great Descartes.
There's room over there.
"But like one walking alone and in the dark,
I resolved to proceed so slowly
and with such circumspection,
that if I did not advance far,
I would at least guard against falling.
I then resolved to accept nothing as true
unless it appeared quite evidently to be so.
As soon as my age permitted me to pass from under the control of my instructors,
I entirely abandoned the study of letters,
and resolved no longer to seek any other science
than the knowledge of myself, or of the great book of the world.
In the course of my travels, it occurred to me
that I should find more truth in the reasonings of each individual
in reference to his own affairs
than in those conducted by a man of letters in his study.
I also learned not to believe too firmly in anything
and during nine years,
I did nothing but roam from one place to another,
gradually rooting out from my mind
all the errors which had crept into it.
It was then that I began to discover the foundations of an admirable science
and learned to conduct my thoughts in such order
that, by commencing with objects the simplest and easiest to know,
I might ascend, step by step, to the knowledge of the more complex.
As model,
I took the long chains of simple and easy reasonings
which geometers are accustomed to use.
I also learned to correct
the errors caused by the senses.
Sight, for example,
wrongly tells us that the earth,
the moon and the sun are larger than the stars.
In the few books I've published since then,
I've attempted to be one of the more accessible writers,
writing in French, not in Latin,
using this language so that peasants
might be better judges of the truth than philosophers.
You know that I'm rarely in France and still less in Paris,
but I see so many people mistaken
in their opinions and calculations,
it seems to be an universal malady.
Men seem to care only for their own gain.
But I see this is not entirely true,
for you are here.
You, my friends.
You, my dear Mersenne,
whose friendship comforts me
and shows me I'm not entirely a stranger in my own country."
This young man listened to you with the greatest interest.
- Who is he? - The son of Etienne Pascal.
He dazzles us with his ideas and experiments,
especially some very interesting ones on the vacuum.
I found your words very disturbing, sir,
because I realize I've taken a different path from yours
and I find that quite alarming.
I've heard that you gave a brilliant speech
in the presence of Father Noël of the Jesuits.
That's true, but since then,
I've changed my mind about certain things.
And also about myself?
Yes, I must confess.
In that case, please enlighten me.
You said, sir,
that you learned to conduct your thoughts in order,
commencing with objects the simplest and easiest to know,
and ascending, step by step, to more complex knowledge.
However, to build your beautiful edifice,
you need a foundation whose solidity is beyond doubt,
but the only foundation you propose
is the discerning power of your reason
by which you mean, all human reason.
But reason, to me,
seems unsure of its place in the world.
It exists, of course, but in an uneasy position
between the infinitely small and the infinitely large,
and as you yourself described it,
disappointed by inconstant appearances and uncertain of its limitations.
Moreover, it is not through reason, but the heart
that we know space is three-dimensional.
It isn't a chain of reasonings
but rather sudden intuition, the breakthrough
that allows us to reach the few certainties we share.
The dimensions of the space around us cannot be measured.
They are not quantifiable, they are unlimited, infinite.
They simply exist because they are.
Yet listening to you,
one could believe that step by step, by increasing their knowledge,
men will one day be able to understand
all the workings of world,
like a spectator backstage in a theater
might discover the means by which the hero rises into the air.
But the infinite universe we live in
will never cease to be infinite,
while our knowledge will never cease to be finite, limited,
in spite of all the new things we learn.
The surveyor's scale you've spoken of
can, it's true, measure the distance from one point to another,
but is incapable of evaluating the quality of the route.
The geometric method gains firm understanding of a few principles
but is incapable of understanding
the diversity all around us.
Can it distinguish between different tones of voice,
manners of walking, of coughing, of blowing one's nose, of sneezing?
Can it distinguish grapes from other fruits, and among grapes, muscat grapes?
You commence with the easiest objects to arrive at the more complex.
Is it not better
to commence with the complex and work down to the simple?
We tread with uncertainty,
for we are caught between an infinity and an abyss of quantity,
an infinity and an abyss of movements, an infinity and an abyss of time
from which we can learn to truly know ourselves
and enrich ourselves with thoughts worth more than the whole of geometry.
You speak of a method,
but to truly understand infinity
requires an infinity of methods
and only God can know them, for only he is infinite.
Your objections, sir, are quite brilliant.
I've already had such thoughts, but I brushed them aside.
Perhaps true finesse
lies in refusing to make use of finesse.
I will not forget your speech.
- He is a great man. - Undoubtedly.
But tell me, how is your father?
I've had no news from him since I left Rouen.
When I left, he was ill, but full of admirable patience.
"Now that you've been informed,
dear sister and brother-in-law,
of our father's death,
before passing this letter over to Jacqueline,
I assure you his death was so simple and desirable
that no Christian could but rejoice."
We mustn't be distressed as if we were pagans without hope,
for we do not consider the body a foul carcass
because we know that saints' bodies, in this base world,
are the abode of the Holy Spirit
with whom they'll be reunited on the day of resurrection.
That is why we revere the holy relics of the dead,
and why, at one time, the host was placed in their mouths.
Knowing these bodies were the temple of the Holy Spirit,
in that time of great faith,
we thought them worthy of receiving the holy sacrament.
Every Christian who dies is destined for eternal life and resurrection.
Blaise, you know I still intend
to withdraw from the world and to enter Port Royal.
You'd leave me alone and ill?
You don't wish me to leave?
You've changed your mind?
When our father was alive, you approved and supported my decision.
Now I understand
his reluctance to be separated from you.
Can't you wait a little longer?
No, it's impossible.
I thought that charity would induce you to stay with me at least a year
before entering the convent.
It'd give me time to prepare myself.
In any case, I'd like to withdraw for at least a year,
and donate my dowry to Port Royal.
I'll give you an annuity, which is your due,
but I won't put your wealth at your disposal.
You know very well it's not a large gift
and even though the convent of Port Royal asks for nothing,
you know they accept all donations and use them for good works.
If that's all it is, I will lend them all I can.
But I don't have the right to give you your dowry...
for just a simple retreat.
And so,
please sign this paper for your safekeeping,
and I'll do anything I can to make you happy.
I need your consent
and I ask it with all the affection in my soul
not because it's needed to accomplish my project,
but because it'd make it more serene and joyous for me
because without your support
I'd be performing the most beautiful act of my life
with a mixture of extreme joy and extreme pain,
with an anguish unworthy of such an act of grace.
I'll let you finish the letter.
Without a dowry, the nuns will never accept her,
so she won't have long to wait.
What is it, Jacques? - A note for you, sir,
from the Duke of Roannez.
Did you hear about Madame Duplessy?
She went to Port Royal and pledged to donate a house to the poor.
"Very well," answered Mr. Barcos,
"but we believe a nun should donate all she owns."
I'm sure you'd enjoy hearing about my, quite opposite, experience.
My sister Jacqueline wanted to enter the convent,
and I thought that Mother Angélique, the mother superior at Port Royal,
wouldn't admit her without a dowry.
Instead, the opposite occurred.
Mother Angélique told my sister, "Why, child, do you complain?
Confess your pride: you wished to enter as a rich woman.
You aren't humble enough to enter as a pauper.
But you'll enter as a pauper, for I won't accept anything from your family."
This only reinforced my great esteem for Port Royal.
This roast with rose essence is delicious.
It's difficult to come by.
Bertier, in rue Saint Jacques, carries it,
and in addition to the rose essences I use with roasts,
he also sells amber and musk extracts, excellent with boiled meats.
Thanks to your knowledge, my troubles are over. A most precious tip!
You are one of France's greatest men of science,
have you no wish to marry?
I confess, ma'am, I've not given it much thought.
This insulting tyrant
Takes every last ecu
From all you villagers
He taxes beyond due
Sound the alarm
The people of France still sing songs of the Fronde,
but in Paris, everything is back to normal.
Less than a year ago it was impossible to find anyone
worth spending an evening with.
Five years of civil war has taught our young king many lessons.
True, for he chose to reinstate Cardinal Mazarin,
the only French statesman capable of following Cardinal Richelieu's policies.
A king isn't a king if he doesn't consider his ministers as enemies.
Will you grace us with your company more often
now that your sister has entered the convent?
Your doctors' advice for you to divert yourself
seems the best remedy for your melancholic humors.
The ailments which afflicted me for years
have completely disappeared.
How is your sister Gilberte?
Fine. She lives in Clermont, where her husband is posted.
My friend, I have known you only a short while,
but apart from our friendship, I'm alone in the world.
My father is dead and my sister Jacqueline is a nun.
Have you ever considered retiring from the world?
I'm only a simple believer.
I think I should abide where God's will has placed me.
- Are you tired? - Yes.
Not in body, but in soul.
I've been told you've begun frequenting high society again.
Yes, I often do and one would think I enjoy it.
It's not done of free will,
for the doctors advised me to seek distractions.
Everyone insists,
saying health is a gift from God which it's our duty to preserve.
Those who tell you such things are untrustworthy.
They confuse illness with evil
and use this excuse to induce you to frequent the salons.
Are you happy with those people?
I've never felt so disgusted.
I feel the need to leave them.
Why don't you?
Because I wouldn't know where to go.
I'm no longer attracted by society,
but at the same time, I feel almost abandoned by God
and no longer feel attracted to him.
I reach toward him with all my might,
but it is my reason that leads me to see him
rather than an impulse from God,
so I'm uncertain
and no longer understand anything.
We expect great signs,
and perhaps that is how God shows himself to mediocre spirits,
but for purer spirits, God employs small signs.
Have faith.
You win.
Christians profess a religion for which they cannot give a reason
and even declare that any attempt to do so would be foolishness.
Certainly, it is in lacking proofs that they are not lacking in sense.
What do you mean?
Since God is infinitely incomprehensible,
then understanding him by means of reason is a contradiction in terms.
It is not because our reason is limited
that we should have a limited idea of God.
God is, or he is not.
Reason can decide nothing here
except to admit there is an infinity of things beyond understanding.
You're not a skeptic,
because skeptics know man has a deep need for certitude,
and a man like you wouldn't be satisfied with less.
Nor dogmatic,
because we all know
that life is uncertain and in constant flux.
Where does that leave us?
God is, or he is not. To which side shall you incline?
Since this game could be played forever without outcome,
you must wager.
It is not optional. You are embarked.
But neither to the reason nor to the heart
is it satisfying to wager on what is finite.
Why?
Because if you wager on what is finite and limited
and you win, you gain nothing,
and if you lose, you lose all.
If instead you wager on the infinite,
if you win, you gain all,
and if you lose, you lose nothing.
But aren't we still uncertain?
Yes, of course, but you hope.
And instead of counting only on your own strength
and risking despair,
you place your hope in the reality of a superior existence.
And if I lose?
You'll have fought the good fight
and will have become a charitable and sincere friend.
And, in the meantime, God might reveal himself to you.
"The year of grace 1 654.
Monday, November 23,
feast of Saint Clement, pope and martyr,
and others in the martyrology.
The eve of Saint Chrysogonus martyr and others.
From about half-past 1 0:00 in the evening
until about half-past midnight.
Fire.
God of Abraham,
God of Isaac, God of Jacob.
Not of philosophers and intellectuals.
Certitude,
certitude...
feeling,
joy, peace.
God of Jesus Christ.
Deum meum et Deum vestrum.
Your God will be my God.
Forgetfulness of the world and of everything
except God.
He can only be found by the ways taught in the Gospels.
Greatness of the human soul.
O just Father,
the world has not known you, but I have known you.
Joy,
joy, joy, tears of joy.
I have cut myself off from him.
Dereliquerunt me fontem aquae vivae.
'My God wilt thou forsake me?'
Let me not be cut off from him for ever!
This is eternal life, that they know you
the one true God,
and Jesus Christ whom you have sent.
Jesus Christ.
I have cut myself off from him.
I have run away from him,
renounced him,
crucified him.
Let me never be cut off from him.
He can only be kept by the ways taught in the Gospel.
Sweet and total renunciation.
Total submission to Jesus Christ
and my director.
Everlasting joy
in return for one day's effort on earth."
How do you feel, my dear child?
I am afraid, Mother.
I am afraid of seeing many of the people
whom I considered as steadfast pillars of truth,
crumble in the face of --
in the face of our persecution.
I cannot bear it.
All the same, you must obey,
and submit.
But the truth, Mother?
The truth will only be found by submitting,
by renouncing all the convictions we hold most dear
if the superior authorities demand it of you.
Is not the highest authority
that of God?
Has he not called upon us to suffer for the truth,
is he not our only leader,
the only one to whom we must answer?
Is not our greatest joy
to struggle and suffer for justice?
"Thus, the Jesuits
expect us to either embrace their errors
or to swear that we embrace them.
They would push us into either error or perjury
corrupting either reason or the heart."
Dear friend.
I regret disturbing your rest,
but I wished to see you.
I was thinking of my sister Jacqueline.
Today, Friday,
marks three weeks since her death
and it fills me with extreme pain and with extreme joy.
Extreme pain
because, apart from you and my sister Gilberte,
she was closest to my heart.
Extreme joy
because she chose to let herself die
rather than sign the condemnation
of what made her choose to forsake the world:
the holy, rigorous doctrine of Port Royal.
You too have fought with all your strength.
But the grand vicars, in a second attack,
demanded that the formulary be signed.
At court and in the city, our revered fathers parade their satisfaction
at the outcome of this drama
because they are without doubt.
"Port Royal will never sign," they say
"and the King's archers will bring them to order."
God contradicts man until man understands
that man is an incomprehensible monster.
He'll contradict them.
What is that strange thing?
A few truths about the Christian religion
sewn together.
If God allows, during my illness,
I'll make them into a treatise.
In order to do so, accept my hospitality.
You'll be more comfortable.
Please, don't deny me the joy of performing a good deed.
I heard you have a terrible toothache.
I do.
I don't understand you.
I distracted myself from the pain
by returning to my old work on the properties of the cycloid.
It was so fascinating that it kept all other thoughts at bay.
I think I've found
both the method and the result.
I know little of such things,
but enough to realize that you have succeeded
where great scientists like Galilei and Roberval had failed.
Observe and you will easily understand.
If I take this wheel
and move it across the table,
its axis traces a straight line,
parallel to the table.
Conversely,
any point situated on the outside edge of the wheel --
this nail, for instance --
traces in space
a curve, which is a geometric figure.
Now, what matters in mathematics or in geometry
is to discover the relationship of equality between two terms.
In this case,
we seek what is equal to the geometric figure
traced in space by this point as the wheel turns.
Though difficult, it's possible to draw this figure.
But it's easier to calculate it using an algebraic formula I've devised,
which manifests the harmony that reigns in all things.
This discovery must be made known far and wide
to prove that you know more than the skeptics
in matters of geometry,
and if you follow a faith, it's not out of ignorance.
You're probably right.
We shall publish the calculation of the cycloid.
I shall use a pseudonym,
Amos Dettonville, for example.
Then I'll organize a contest
for the world's most esteemed geometers
on the various problems of the cycloid.
I will deposit 60 ecus with Mr. Carcavi,
and this prize will go to whomever is capable of solving the problem.
If after three months no one has succeeded,
I'll reveal the exact solution in a treatise.
You're an unpredictable man, you'll never cease to amaze me.
I'd like to tell you about a new idea of mine.
It may seem strange, but it'd be useful to the Parisians,
and allow me to earn some money for the poor.
It's a project for a paid transport service
that I conceived while observing carriages in the street.
I've drawn up a route through Paris
and done all the calculations.
Read this when you have a chance
and tell me what you think.
Look.
Here's one of the carriages for the transport service.
The king has given us the authorization to run it
and charge five pennies per person
and this
is for a route
from Vincennes to the Louvre
passing through Cité and Châtelet.
The king forbids soldiers, pages, servants and artisans
from using the service.
I think these public carriages will be useful,
especially on this route,
heavily frequented by magistrates.
We'll also be able to use the crest and colors of city of Paris.
Life is so unpredictable.
The king and the court, so harsh with the leaders of Port Royal,
condemning the Jansenists as rebels of the Fronde,
wounded me,
yes, and broke the heart of my sister Jacqueline
who died from the pain,
and yet,
they favor my project of public carriages.
The Sorbonne scholars have asked the royal authority to intervene.
They insist on charging as a crime
Mr. Arnauld's polemic against the hierarchy.
But hasn't Rome already condemned Arnauld, his friends,
and his doctrine, Jansenism?
The pope is busy so he left it up to the Jesuits.
You know, everyone's still talking about the letters in defense of Arnauld
that circulated in Paris
addressed to the Jesuit father in charge of the province.
People say
they're a masterpiece of theology,
but were only signed with a mysterious acronym:
"F.F.
B.P.A.
S.O.E.P."
Former friend,
Blaise Pascal, Auvergnois,
son of Etienne Pascal.
Why won't you say you wrote them?
Take this and you'll feel better.
From Dr. Guénault,
for Mr. Blaise Pascal.
"Two newborn puppies, half a pound of live worms.
Cook and macerate to prepare a dense ointment
to be applied to the legs of the patient."
Good, I have everything I need.
Please return in three or four hours.
In your condition!
Why didn't you wait for me?
Why should I?
Am I unworthy of manual labor?
I return from the pharmacy
where Mr. Justeau prepared this ointment.
I must apply it.
I'm very upset, sir.
Why?
I must leave you.
Why? Tell me.
My son is ill and Dr. Guénault fears it might be smallpox.
I must bring him to the hospital and stay to care for him.
You will not leave this house.
But, sir, you risk contagion,
and those who visit you.
Stay here and keep the house after my death.
Meanwhile, I'll go to my sister Gilberte's house.
Sir, don't speak of such things.
As usual, your door is always open,
you could be visited by just anybody.
You are not "just anybody."
I bring news of our transport enterprise.
Your carriages, dear Blaise, are deemed so convenient
that the auditors, the head accountants,
the counselors of Châtelet, and the counselors of the court
have no hesitation about using them to go from the Louvre to Châtelet.
The Duke of Anghien used them, and maybe, one day, so will the king.
What's wrong?
Nothing. It's nothing.
His terrible pain has returned.
My master has decided to retire to the home of his sister.
I'll explain later.
What were you saying about these carriages,
which are so remarkably profitable?
I'll add that your paupers in Blois will bless you.
I'd rather they prayed for me.
The notaries are here.
Good evening.
Follow me.
Brother, the notaries are here.
Good.
Shall I read the text?
Yes.
"Mr. Blaise Pascal, gentleman,
normally residing in Paris near Porte Saint-Michel,
currently bedridden by illness
in a room on the second floor of a house in Paris,
between Saint-Marcel and Saint-Victor,
in the parish of Saint-Etienne-du-Mont,
in full mental capacity...
The doctors are here.
but believing he is near death,
bequeaths in his testament
the sum of 1 ,200 pounds to François Delpeau..."
How is our patient?
This morning he felt dizzy
with a horrible headache.
He hasn't eaten in six days.
Don't be alarmed, it's merely the vapors of his humors.
As soon as the notaries finish, we'll examine him.
Thank you.
"... name Mr. Périer executor.
Noted by said notary in said bedroom and signed by the testator
in presence of the undersigned notaries,
the third day of the month of August of the year 1 662."
In addition, I want to be buried
in the church of Saint-Etienne-du-Mont,
in the city of Paris.
Is that all, sir?
This way, please.
Being our student, take his pulse
so we may judge for ourselves your new science.
- Good. - Good?
Excellent.
Even, uneven, that is, evanescent and vermiform.
There's no need to examine the patient further.
What do you mean? Is he well or is he ill?
- I think he's well. - Is he suffering?
The pulse is the bursar of nature,
the preserver of the spirits and the vital faculties.
This modern science!
Don't listen to him. As I told you,
it's simply an attack of melancholic humors.
Give him nothing but skim milk
and have him take the waters I prescribed.
He's in no danger.
At least you recognize he's in no danger.
I beg you,
bring me to the hospice,
I wish to die there.
There's no need, you heard the doctors.
They ignore my illness.
The Lord gave me a blessed family,
but it's time for me to leave it.
To die in the hospice, among the poor,
would be like dying in the arms of Christ.
Gilberte,
my sister, I wish to be given the viaticum.
But the viaticum is for the dying
and you are in no danger.
But I want it.
Father, I want the viaticum.
You're not dying.
You're merely very ill,
as you have been before.
You mustn't despair.
I do not despair.
I ask for neither health nor sickness,
neither life nor death,
but for God to dispose of my life and my death
for his glory, for my salvation,
for the church and the saints to whom I hope to belong.
Suffering is a gift of God,
for, tormented by illness,
deprived of our possessions and our pleasures,
freed of the passions which afflict us all our lives,
we welcome death with joy.
I want the viaticum.
No, I want the viaticum.
The Lord will not abandon you.
Are you ready for your last rites?
Yes.
Peace to this house.
And to all who dwell therein.
Let us pray.
Hear us, holy Lord, almighty Father, eternal God,
and be pleased to send thy holy angel from heaven
to guard, cherish, protect, visit
and defend all those who dwell in this house
through Christ our Lord.
Amen.
May almighty God have mercy upon you, forgive you your sins
and bring you to everlasting life.
Amen.
May you be pardoned and absolved of all sins
by almighty God.
Amen.
Receive, brother, the viaticum of the body of our Lord, Jesus Christ.
May he keep you from the malignant foe
and bring you to life everlasting.
Amen.
The Lord be with you.
And with thy spirit.
Let us pray.
O holy Lord, Father almighty and eternal God,
we pray thee in faith, that our brother may benefit
from the holy body of our Lord Jesus Christ, thy son,
which he receives as an everlasting remedy for body and soul
from he who lives and reigns with thee and the Holy Spirit, one God,
forever and ever.
Amen.
May God never abandon me.
END